by A J Britnell
Relieved to still be in one piece, the two astronauts released their tethers and peered around the opening to see a metal crate of some description, half blocking the entrance. They both carefully squeezed beneath and headed for the door opposite that trapped Haruka.
John found himself pulled back; he had caught his left boot in a cargo net and he spun around to untangle his foot. “Look,” he shouted. “There’s a power cell canister in here.” He extricated his leg and pushed back the net to take a closer look. The vessel was badly dented and wedged into the dislodged locker. The gauge was in the red.
John turned to Stefan, “It’s unstable; we need to get a move on!”
Opening his tool pouch, Stefan clumsily felt for a hammer. “How long have we got?”
John rubbed the glass on the canister, “I don’t know, a minute, an hour. Just get a move on. God I wish we brought EMO.”
“Herman has it in bits again.”
“Of course it is, we can’t have a functioning maintenance robot, can we.”
Behind the door, Haruka waited motionless. She had heard everything. The woman knew what she had to do: tell them to go, to leave her, save themselves, but she could not. She did not want to die here, all alone, trapped and helpless. Claustrophobic and fearful, Haruka forgot her training and gulped her air greedily. Frustrated, she began banging on the hatch with weak fists, her strength and hope draining away.
“Get a move on, boys,” she urged, “I’m not managing my air!”
John cast Stefan a knowing look but gave Haruka the response she needed, “Just keep calm, breath shallow. Imagine you’re on that beach.”
Stefan tried to spot her through the smoke-stained window. “Can you get away from the glass Haruka? I’m going to punch a hole to release the pressure.”
She did not respond. He held the hydraulic hammer against the glass and squeezed the trigger. Three times he had to hit it before eventually breaking through. As predicted there was only a tiny amount of atmosphere within the next room and it was instantly sucked out to equalize the pressure. They were now able to open the door; the two men forcefully twisted the mechanism in unison and when the door finally creaked back into the room they were met by a floating Haruka. Without checking her vitals, they grabbed her up by the elbows and propelled themselves to the escape hatch.
Haruka’s head whipped backwards and she opened her eyes to a twisting view; a muddled kaleidoscope of white suits, flashlights and Space. She tried to slow her breathing, she knew she had time – if she could just relax.
The trio emerged from the exit to the relief of Claus who was waiting expectantly a short distance away. They had to swap tethers. Stefan stretched out his arm to the tether connected to the Bug; it was just a little out of reach. A tiny burst from his ankle thrusters pushed him that little bit further and just as John’s cord tautened to its extreme, Stefan caught hold of the life line, twisting the carabiner tight. John checked his grasp on the quiet Haruka and reached out for his tether with his free hand. He pulled the connected astronauts back towards the freighter in a tug-of war. It was tricky with one hand but it finally released and Claus drew the astronauts back to the waiting Bug. There was no time to bring them inside.
“Speed it up Claus. I want the Caspian out of here ASAP.” Stefan exhaled and his heart rate began to slow as he felt the surge of travel ripple through his body. “Just to be on the safe side,” he added feeling more hopeful. The adrenalin was leaving him.
His body spun around affording him the chance to study his two friends; locked in a desperate embrace, their safety line stretching away from him. They were out of his reach. He looked back at the receding freighter and considered the lost revenue, forget it! he thought – he knew where the real value lay.
Marcus dangled on his harness outside the cargo bay in readiness. The Bug looked a little worse for wear. The oversized claws had been extended and repositioned to incase the precious cargo within the array. Scraps of metal and insulation material spilt out and trailed like ribbons. As expected, the solar sails were mangled. The Bug would not fit inside the Caspian’s hangar with the array deployed so they would have to manually remove the cells and rubbish. As soon as they were close enough Stefan released their tether and thrusted towards the personnel airlock to the side, dragging his friends behind him. John grabbed hold of the handrail, tumbling hard against the Caspian’s hull.
John put his hand up as Stefan started twisting the hatch, “I can take her from here, you help get the Bug in.”
Stefan hesitated a moment, glancing through Haruka’s visor. Her eyes were rolling back as if drunk but at least she was conscious. He nodded and jetted back to Marcus.
Stefan floated aside the Bug waiting for Claus to release the claws. Marcus appeared with some cargo netting, “An elegant solution Marcus.”
They quickly gathered the canisters before they drifted into space, twisting up the netting and hooking it to the rear of the craft. “Okay Claus, that’s everything.” Claus attempted to retract them but a couple had been bent back preventing the task.
Stefan shook his head, “Start moving in Claus, we’ll try to tuck try them in behind you.” The Lacecell sails were extremely strong but had a certain amount of flex. The astronauts levered the three broken sails until the craft eased through the opening.
As soon as the Bug entered the cargo bay back on the Caspian the familiar roar of the main engines thundered around them. Robotic arms extended from the bay walls to secure the Bug and the astronauts followed with their booty in tow. Stefan spoke to the flight deck, “I want us out of here in two minutes!”
There was no time to leave the hangar so the astronauts bundled back into the Bug and strapped into their seats, waiting for the ship to launch further into space and hopefully a safe distance.
Once the engines had died down to a cruising speed the crew left the safety of the Bug and moved through to the next compartment to remove their suits.
Stefan called through to the medical room, “Hey Eileen, how’s Haruka doing?”
A couple of seconds later the Medical officer responded, “She’s fine,” her voice matter of fact, “Her oxygen’s nearly back to normal but I’ll keep her here an hour or so to be sure.”
Stefan could hear indistinguishable voices in the background but then Eileen’s returned, “Why don’t you ever listen to me…. Sorry Stefan, she’s leaving the bay…. Haruka, at least take the oxygen mask with you!”
Though exhausted, the need to be reunited overrode common sense and all the astronauts rejected Eileen’s advice and made their way to the mess hall and their waiting crewmates. Conserving energy, they slowly propelled themselves through the corridor using the rails for leverage. Stefan glanced to his left as Haruka emerged from a side tube closely followed by John. “Hey, you survived!”
She looked terrible; her skin pale and waxy, her movements labored. The oxygen mask obscured her thin smile.
Stefan hung back and waited for Haruka to negotiate the bend and join the queue. Anticipating his intentions, she nonchalantly pushed past her Captain with a simple thumb’s up. He reached out and touched her shoulder, leaving it there long enough to show his concern.
She turned her head, “I’m fine Stef,” her tone was kind but Stefan noticed that she could not look him in the eye.
Haruka remembered fondly their dalliance nearly a year ago, but to her it was just that; the solitude had gotten to her and the need for companionship overrode her need to compartmentalize work and romance. It was obvious to her that the encounter had meant a lot more to Stefan. “We’d better catch up with the others,” she added, turning away.
Stefan reluctantly accepted the situation and let go, “Sure, I’m right behind you.”
The atmosphere was jubilant; the waiting crew embraced the heroes in turn, as each glided through the mess room hatch. They were sore and dehydrated. The medical Officer Eileen Nash took charge of their welfare and forced pouches of hydration fluids into their hands w
hich were devoured in seconds.
Eileen attached a probe to Haruka’s finger “Let me just check your sats.”
Haruka pulled the probe off in frustration and resorted to the occasional draw of oxygen to the annoyance of her carer.
Once replenished, an exchange of exaggerated recounts began, extolling the skills of their comrades in peril. Stefan accepted their praise with a slender smile, his mood improved and allowed himself a moment to relax by floating above the bench seating with his hands behind his head. However, behind the smiles lay relief; it was evident on all seven faces – they knew they had been lucky but that seemed to be the governing force in space, no matter how prepared you were.
Claus tapped Stefan on the shoulder, “How much damage do you think the blast will cause?”
Their Captain turned and looked out the window at the distant freighter, “I don’t know, just a few compartments probably. We’ll go back and finish the job after we've had a rest, I'm shattered.”
At that moment, a blinding light flashed through the flight deck followed by a rain of ship fragments. Stefan dived to the navigation computer. The Alexandra was gone.
Chapter Two
James Healey the Third reclined in the plush leather seat in his private tiltrotor craft as it glided almost silently over The Black Forest in Germany. The lush greenery below became invisible under the bright floodlights and as his eyes adjusted, the twisting river of tarmac revealed itself. This was the latest sporting phenomenon, The Melee Motor Tournament. It was a complicated race involving timed checkpoints and obstacles. Some parts of the track resembled those from the Grand Prix circuits, popular from earlier in the century but others were more like desert racing tracks with hazards and rough terrain. The most challenging aspect of the race was negotiating the moving bridges, which allowed vehicles to pass on to different parts of the track, often into the paths of other drivers with devastating consequences.
For this reason, the cars needed to be virtually indestructible and this was only achievable because of the invention of Lacecell; and its inventor and company Director was James Healey.
Lacecell was a semi-organic polymer that had up to ten layers of super strong fibres that could withstand extreme temperature changes and impacts while remaining light and flexible. It had revolutionized the automotive, aviation and aeronautic industries and had made Healey a multi-billionaire, though Healey’s success started years before when he expanded the family business, Globewide Assistance. The company won contracts around the world to supply emergency assistance for large-scale disasters and industrial accidents. Business was booming; after the economic downturn at the beginning of the century, many countries found it more cost effective to contract out the work to private companies. This achievement, combined with an abundance of confidence pushed Healey up to the level of ‘A’ list celebrity and a bit of a hero, something he did not discourage.
Healey had been keeping an eye on the Space Station situation with his pocket terminal. He tossed it onto the table in front of him and glanced out the window at the busy scenes below. Nothing compared to the excitement of a rescue – but maybe one thing, he thought to himself; a Melee. Today was not about meetings and negotiations, today was for relaxation and the promotion of the Healey brand. This was his big day, he was about to open the European leg of the Melee Motor Tournament, his latest venture.
As soon as the craft landed Healey bound out, ducking low to avoid the downdraft; he brought a hand to his eyes to deflect the dust swirl. As his vision returned he found himself consumed by a bustle of staff and bodyguards who ushered him to the hospitality grandstand that over looked the starting line.
Someone thrust a drink into his hand, “I’ve got Stefan Andersen on a secure line for you Sir.”
Pleasantly surprised, Healey made his excuses to his entourage and followed his assistant into an empty office where he sat in front of a video screen expectantly. “Stef! Good to see you my old friend - looking a bit wild though.”
Stefan grinned and rubbed his neglected beard,” Well we can’t all have around the clock manicures and back rubs, you know. Some of us have to work for a living.”
Healey chuckled, “That’s why I need you, old man; you’re the only person I know with an ounce of integrity – myself included.” He sipped at his champagne. “Anyway, down to brass tacks; I’ve been meaning to contact you with a new business proposition. I planned to get you in the office on your next rotation back to Earth and win you over with an impressive professional power-point thing but this Space Station accident made me push forward my plans.”
Stefan had trouble keeping up with his overbearing friend; the knife sharp creases on Healey’s tailored grey flannel suit and the way his blonde quiff bounced elegantly with every syllable distracted him. Gravity was a beautiful thing he thought.
“I’ve been thinking about expanding Globewide Assistance.”
Stefan suddenly regained clarity, “How much more expanded can you get, you’re already in half the countries on the planet!”
“Actually, three quarters,” he interrupted smugly.” I was thinking more about expanding upwards.”
The penny dropped for Stefan and he started shaking his head. “Don’t tell me, you’ll be renaming yourself – Universal Assistance, maybe.”
“Ooh, catchy - think it might be taken though; but seriously, this emergency is the perfect opportunity to launch my new venture. There's no organization up there – no support when things go wrong, it’s a brilliant business plan and I think we might be able to help each other out,” Healey began explaining his ideas with childlike enthusiasm. “My factory made many of the components for the station and I have a team working on the replacement drive arm as we speak. I will have it rocketed up to you by the time you come into orbit, I might even meet you there.”
Stefan waited for a chance to interrupt, “So hold on Healey, let me catch up. This future business plan - I can’t get my head around now. Let’s just talk about the Orbiter.” He held up his own terminal to the screen so Healey could see his friend scrolling through the dossier; highlighting the blue prints for the station and examining the mechanics. Healey rocked on his chair impatiently. “Hang on, fixing the generator arm’s one thing, but you seem to have volunteered us for the shuttle rescue - that's not what we do!”
“That’s not what I’ve heard. Didn’t you save the lovely Haruka only the other day?”
“We were lucky!”
“No,” said Healey, looking sternly into the monitor, “you were prepared for anything and you reacted accordingly.”
Stefan shook his head, defeated but posed one final question, “I just don't understand; why don't you just use your Globewide Assistance guys.”
“I don't have anyone like you - that's the problem!” and with that he stood up in front of the monitor and re-buttoned his jacket. “You’ve got the people - I’ve got the equipment, simple as that. I’ll give you two hours to convince your team.” He closed the terminal without giving Stefan a chance to reply and bounded out of the office to the cheers of awaiting guests. He lifted his glass high and yelled, “Let’s get this race started!” and they followed him like mice to the piper.
The track below them was a kaleidoscope of colour; hundreds of spectators, engineers, managers and drivers milled around their cars, each one emblazoned with their team logos and sponsors. The racing cars were unlike their predecessors’ in that the aerodynamics seemed to have gone out of the window in preference of rugged durability. They were still a marvel of design but, maybe because of all the sleek elegant ships that filled the skies, the industry longed for an earthier motorsport that harkened back to the rally-cross style of the racing of the past.
Fifteen cars had qualified for the race. The drivers separate into three randomly selected groups, their starting lines at different points around the circuit. Waiting impatiently on the grids the drivers revved their engines in anticipation, generating a deafening roar that arose from the stadium
s. The crowds cheered in response to this unusual spectacle; all road cars had to be electrically powered and motoring had become a silent pursuit, only sporting arenas and vintage car owners could gain a license for petrochemical engines.
On gantries above the drivers, six lights appeared, one by one. When the final light appeared, they all instantly extinguished, indicating the start of the race. Within a second, the drivers reacted and launched their cars off the grids. A frenzy of cars jostled for position, causing a few vehicles to mount the banks in a desperate attempt to avoid collision. All cars in the red group managed to negotiate the first right turn and prepared themselves for the tight hairpin bend ahead.
The three groups would soon converge on the same junction, a crossroads with a gorge-jump overhead. Melee was a tactical sport. Beside each driver sat a navigator who planned the route through all twenty-five checkpoints. Using data presented to them on screens around the dashboard, including satellite imagery, the navigators decided on the appropriate order after factoring in the positions of other cars and the need for tyre changes.
The course was comprised of two different terrains: off road and tarmac. Parts of the track wound through tree lined hills with a loose gravel surface that provided little grip; one moment a driver could be climbing a steep, sandy incline and then find themselves immersed in a muddy ford, struggling for traction. In contrast, the tarmac race circuit offered the chance to break away from the pack and achieve incredible speeds.
Because of the varied course, the cars had to be adaptable. Every car had its own individual design, some quite elaborate but all had the capability of changing their ride height at a touch of a button to deal with the bumpy terrain. Altering tyre pressures during the race helped to compensate but the tyre tread was set, which caused the cars to squirm around the track, searching for traction.